


The Tale of a Sick Hero

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8905555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Otabek is sick, and Yuri dotes.





	

It’s barely a cough. A harsh exhale is all it is, really. Still, it makes Yuri Plisetsky look up from his cereal and focus acutely on the man sitting across the table. The Kazakhstan hero is glaring down at his breakfast, eyes slightly murderous. “You okay?” Yuri asks, just to be sure. Otabek nods, and meets Yuri’s gaze, his eyes softening.  
“Thriving, though I might be getting a cold. You shouldn't worry so much, Yura.” He reaches up and ruffles Yuri’s bedhead, fingers tangling in the long strands. “Your hair’s getting longer.” he remarks, and it’s true. Especially compared to four years ago in Barcelona, which may have been the last time Yuri cut his hair. Yuri swats his boyfriend’s hand away.  
“I know, I’ll get it cut soon.” he huffs.  
“I like it like this.” Otabek says casually, like he’s talking about the weather. His hand hovers dangerously close to Yuri’s now flushed cheek.  
“Sh-Shut up!” Yuri stutters, shoving now soggy flakes into his mouth. Otabek chuckles, moving back to his breakfast.  
When Yuri wakes up the next morning, his first instinct is to bury his nose farther into Otabek’s shirt and go back to sleep, but a sniffle stops him. He taps Otabek on the shoulder lightly. “Hey, Beka, turn around.” He complies, movements weighted down by sleep. He doesn’t look so good. Otabek’s eyes are red and watery when he opens them and his every breath is accompanied by the wet sound of suction in his nose. “How're you feeling?” Yuri asks, trailing a hand up Otabek’s face to his forehead, where he leaves it, gauging the temperature.  
“Fine.” Otabek says, but his voice is scratchy and he nuzzles into Yuri’s hand.  
“You’re sick.”Yuri states bluntly, moving his hands into Otabek’s hair and dragging his fingers through the snarls. “The good news is you don’t have a fever, yet.” Reluctantly, Yuri sits up and slides his feet off of their shared bed. “I’ll make you some tea.” Otabek murmurs something indecipherable and burrows farther into the mattress. Yuri pads silently to the kitchen with feline grace, even in the morning.  
When he returns, Otabek is awake, though he’s still fully horizontal face down on the pillow, and reaching blindly for the tissues on his nightstand. Yuri sighs, plucks a tissue out of the box, and hands it to him along with the mug of tea. Otabek accepts both gratefully and blows his nose. When he finishes his drink, he moves to get out of bed, but a hand on his chest stops him. “Sleep for a few more minutes. I’ll make breakfast.” Otabek looks like he’s about to argue, but Yuri glares a little and he lies back down. “Only for you, my darling.”  
“How lucky I am, to have someone that would go to such lengths for me.” Yuri snaps, but flushes anyway. Otabek smiles at him over the sheet and closes his eyes.  
Once in the kitchen, Yuri briefly ponders what to make. He almost opts for syrniki, something he knows Otabek likes, but switches to the safer option of dry toast and orange juice. He sets the meal on the table, now determined to get Otabek out of bed. When he steps into the room, he is met with the slightly adorable sight of his boyfriend curled into himself, brow smoothed out. It feels intimate, walking into the room when Otabek is at his most vulnerable and being able to wake him up with light kisses up his jaw. It's a privilege that Yuri relishes, basks in as Otabek blinks sleep from his eyes and turns his head so Yuri's next kiss lands on his lips. Yuri smiles against Otabek's mouth and pulls away. "If you give me the plague, I'm moving out." He says, but brings his face closer to Otabek's again, a chaste kiss shared between them before Yuri practically rolls Otabek, who is unable to move having been swaddled in blankets, into the dining room and plants him on the seat.  
The next day, around lunch time, Otabek runs a fever. Yuri pats gingerly at his forehead with a cool cloth and whispers comforting words while he shivers. When Otabek vomits, Yuri diligently holds his hair away from his face, rubs soothing circles on his back, and holds his hand when he dry heaves. When Otabek apologizes, Yuri almost chastises him sarcastically to hide his worry for Otabek, but instead whispers that he has nothing to be sorry for and that he loves him. Otabek is most likely too deluded by the haze of illness to remember and tease him for being a sap the next morning.  
The following night, Yuri regains some of his sanity and decides that he can't bear to sleep next to Otabek again if he reeks of sweat and bile. He drags him into the bathroom and runs hot bath water while he gently pulls off Otabek's clothing and tosses the bundle of fabric into the hamper. He maneuvers Otabek into the now full tub and dips cupped hands into the water. He dumps it unceremoniously on Otabek's mane and squeezes shampoo onto the sweaty locks of hair. Otabek shudders and pushes his head against Yuri's fingers. Yuri smiles and rinses his head, having moved on to conditioner. He massages Otabek's scalp for a while, passing him a tissue when necessary, then pulls him out of the tub and puts him in his pajamas, insisting that no one is allowed to sleep in the bathroom.  
The next morning, Otabek awakens, feeling better than he has in a while. His first instinct is to back farther into the arms wrapped around him, but stops when he hears a sniffle. "Yura, are you feeling alright?" He asks, turning around to face a watery eyed and congested fairy.  
"I hate you, Beka."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic, as one fateful day I was deluded into thinking I could contribute to the fandom. This is probably a little (or a lot) OOC, as I lack any actual writing talent. All mistakes are my own, and constructive criticism is highly sought after. Thanks!


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